


Chips

by FlukeOfFate



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen, One Shot, Sentimental, changes, reflections, sort of romantic but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 02:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlukeOfFate/pseuds/FlukeOfFate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>11th Doctor wants chips, he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chips

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote it a long time ago. Takes place just after Amy and Rory get married. 11/Rose sort of, kinda, not exactly.

The Doctor was alone on the bridge of the TARDIS. Amy and Rory weren't awake yet. The previous day's escapades had caught up with them. It was quite the wedding. He'd had fun—he loved dancing. Who cares what Amy says about his moves, he knew his dancing was, like his bow-tie, absolutely "cool".

Marriage. His mind wandered to River Song's mysterious words the night before, but he forced his thoughts in new directions. He had learned a long time ago to stop over-analyzing women. It was probably the one thing that Time Lords and Humans had distinctly in common—the inability to comprehend the opposite sex. Especially with Time Lord women. Just when you get used to one, suddenly they would turn around and regenerate, then you would have to figure them out all over again. Romana had been ridiculous enough in the course of her regenerations...and before that Susan and her moth—

The Doctor forced his mind to quiet. He wouldn't think about that.

"So Doctor, where and when are we headed?" Amy was dressed in simple shorts and a light green tee-shirt, and wearing that little scarf she likes so much. She looked fresh as a daisy—no, not a daisy, a sunflower. The Doctor smiled at her. Leave it to Amy to influence Vincent van Gogh.

"No idea! What do you say we leave it to chance?" replied the Doctor, "I quite like chance. Chance is good. Chances are good too. It can be a first chance, a second chance. Good result, bad result, but always, always an adventure to be had!"

"Sounds good to me," piped up Rory behind the two of them.

The Doctor pushed a few buttons, flipped a few switches, spun the wheel, and banged the console with his fist for emphasis. "Right, but lets omit those pesky cracks, this time. GERONIMO!" He shouted as the TARDIS began to shake. The three passengers held on tight as the TARDIS made it's landing into the unknown.

Amy was first to open the door. She peaked outside.

"What is it then?" Rory asked peaking from over her shoulder. Amy stepped outside, looking around.

"It doesn't look too impressive," she replied, spinning in a circle, taking in the scene. It was night, and they were in a city street. Actually, it looked like they were in-

"London, yeeear...oh...early 2004?" the Doctor clarified as he inspected a poster on the wall advertising Ocean's Twelve. "Not nearly as good as the first. And I mean the first first, not the new first. Firsts firsts are usually better. Don't you agree?"

"Yeah." Amy agreed. "But we can watch an old film at any old time. Let's go look about, see if anything exciting is going on."

She looked around. Rory had already made his way down to the street corner, and cars were whizzing by. Amy ran up behinds him, draping her arms over his shoulders when she reached him. "Anything good?"

"Something smells good," said Rory, breathing in the air.

Amy sniffed the air. Indeed it did.

"Ahhh, chips! I like chips. Hey..I still like chips! I haven't had chips since..." the Doctor's words died on his lips.

Amy rolled her eyes. "Oh no, Doctor, we aren't going into a restaurant just so you can spit food at the waiters," she argued, missing the Doctor's hesitation.

The Doctor looked at her. "Hey! I wouldn't spit. Well, not at the waiter. What's the waiter ever done to me? And they have fish—you know I like fish. Waiters might spit in my food if I spit at them. Never a good idea to spit at the waiter, Why on earth would you suggest such a thing?"

Rory laughed, and Amy sighed. Then a distinct gurgling sound erupted from Amy. "Ugh...I guess I haven't eaten yet, today."

"Neither have I, and I think chips sound brilliant right now," Rory added, smiling. "I'm willing to risk a bit of spitting for a hot meal." Rory offered his arm, and Amy took it. The two of them positively trotted off, the Doctor close behind them. If' they'd looked, they'd have seen a tiny, dopey smile grace his face. The two of them were so in love, and it showed. It was nice to see such love. Even if it led the Doctor to wishing...but wishing doesn't do anything. Besides, the Doctor thought, he had learned long ago that he could never change destiny.

The restaurant was a little hole-in-the-wall place that claimed to be the oldest fish and chips pub in London. Cool. I hope they have custard.

They sat at a table, Amy and Rory ordered, and exchanged glances as the Doctor ordered fish and chips, with a side of custard, which which apparently they did have. Amy just shook her head as the doctor dipped his fish in the thick substance.

"The chips are good," Rory said, stuffing his mouth with the fried potatoes. "Nice and chunky, I like that."

"I dunno, maybe a bit too thick for my tastes, but they decent," replied Amy. "You gonna eat yours, Doctor? You were the one going on and on about them."

The Doctor grabbed a single chip between his thumb and forefinger. He waved it by his nose, inhaling the scent.

This time, Amy couldn't help but notice the Doctor's silence, or the peculiar way he eyed the food. It was one of many expressions that she'd grown wearily accustomed to in her time with him. It was the look of old eyes peering from a much younger face. Always pain. Amy didn't know much about his past, but she knew it was not pleasant. Every time she prodded the Doctor with questions about his life before meeting her, he would change the subject, or act as though he didn't hear her.

When Amy was young, there was an old man who lived down the road from her house. He used to tell Rory and her stories about the war. He'd go on for hours and hours about one battle or another, about how Little Jimmy was so jumpy he almost revealed the platoon's position by shooting a rabbit that he'd mistaken for an Nazi. He'd go on and on, and occasionally, he'd stop and stare blankly, like he was struggling to remember and to forget at the same time. That was the look on the Doctor's face now. She could only wonder at why a chip would have such an effect on the Time Lord.

The smell of vinegar invaded the Doctor's nostrils. So many memories associated with that smell. Vinegar saved Jackie and Mickey from the Slitheen. Vinegar was good. Rose liked the vinegar chips.

Rose liked the vinegar chips.

They had shared them often; he had liked them too.

Did he now?

What if he didn't?

The thought disturbed him. He dropped the chip back on it's plate, and pushed the plate towards the newlyweds.

"Here. I don't think I want them after all. The fish and custard is enough." The Doctor forced a smile as he continued. "One should never overindulge. Nothing in excess, as my good friend Aristotle would say. Smart man, that Aristotle."

They both could tell something was bothering the Doctor, but neither Rory nor Amy asked.

"Suit yourself then, more for me," Rory said happily. He'd already finished his own chips.

"Rory, really, you eat like a pig! How are you so skinny?" Amy asked, in mock irritation.

"I'm just that amazing," he answered, grinning.

The Doctor smiled at them, as they continued to banter back and forth. Things were good. Things would stay good.

He didn't need to taste them.

He liked the chips.

He refused to not like them.


End file.
